Page 13 of Heir of the Beast

I am super stoked.

Am I panicking?

I wipe my forehead and clench my fist.

Destiny is going first. She looks confident and unafraid, but I don’t buy it. I am willing to bet we all are freaking out on the inside.

She walks up a few short steps to the Bowl of Destiny and pauses with her hands hovering over the metallic substance. She’s scared.

It doesn’t help that the solar system is back on display behind her.

My equilibrium is slightly thrown off as I feel a wave of dizziness. I could compare this feeling to taking shots on an empty stomach while wearing five-inch heels. Steady…steady…

“Go ahead, Destiny. It will only take a moment,” Zora says calmly behind her.

She puts her hands in the substance and gasps. “It’s freezing.”

We all wait quietly, our hearts in our throats. I’m even scared to take a small breath, for it might upset Fate into giving Destiny a less desirable role.

On the screen behind us, in bold letters, it magically reads: Castle of Garthorn Royal Chef.

Destiny turns around and reads it, taking a moment to register that she will be making food for Apollo and the royal family. “Well,” she breathes with a smile, “food is the way to a man’s heart!”

Everyone cheers, and Zora nods.

“Quickly now—next!”

April walked up next, pushing her short hair behind her ear. “Okay, here goes nothing.”

The screen reads: Castle of Garthorn Royal Horse Master.

Everyone oohs and ahhs at this one. I bite my lip; I would have loved that one, horses are beautiful creatures.

That would be exciting—riding horses with a hot prince and making love on a cliffside while my hair blows in the wind. I would say something witty, and his laughter would ring in the air.

Focus.

Ivy is next and laughs before she touches the liquid. “This is crazy! I feel like Harry Potter!”

The screen reads: Ladies Maid to the Queen of Garthorn.

She didn’t look too pleased with that one, but that position would put her right next to Apollo and his mother.

She needs to think outside the box. No cliff side ***, but she could bang Apollo in his mother’s bed.

That’s a joke.

Laura is next, and she just wears a smirk, grinning at Ivy. I hope she gets chambermaid. Please, chambermaid.

“I hope this isn’t a random drawing,” she complains, and rolls her eyes, putting her hands in the liquid. “Because I am an inner princess, my daddy said so.”

She laughs loud like she told the cleverest joke. It’s high pitched and forced. It’s embarrassing to see that nobody laughs after. I am about to chuckle out of pity, and I dislike her. That’s how bad it is.

Her face reddens as she clears her throat. Her hands soak in the liquid and seconds pass.

The screen reads: Royalty of a Foreign Country.

“Yes!” she screams. “What does that mean?! Does that mean princess or queen?”

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